


In Your Arms

by Johnismyloveforever64



Category: The Beatles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-15 21:56:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7239994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johnismyloveforever64/pseuds/Johnismyloveforever64
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paul and John bond during Julia's funeral.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Your Arms

**Author's Note:**

> It's Paulie's birthday, so I thought I'd post a nice little fic. It's not really romantic, but I still consider it a McLennon fic.

John looked so vulnerable, laid out on his bed, his suit still on. He wasn’t looking at Paul. he was just staring up at the ceiling, totally checked out. 

“John,” Paul called out from the doorway. He looked up and gave him a weak smile. 

“The food’s downstairs,” he mumbled and turned to face the wall. 

“I’m not hungry,” Paul whispered, sitting down next to him. John barely glanced at him before turning back to his wall. “John!” Paul called out urgently. His best mate rolled over and waited for him to speak. Paul realized then that he had nothing to say. 

John nodded and rolled over again. Paul pulled him back. 

“Look at me,” he demanded. John faced him, his expression blank. Suddenly nervous, he said what he wanted to say in a rush: “John, I just want you to know that I am here for you.”

“Paul McCartney, that is literally the most cliché thing you could’ve said to me.”

And he rolled back over, his head crashing into the wall. He muttered a few obscenities. Then said a few more, and before either of them knew it, he was shouting

“Fuck, balls, bollocks, shit!” He screamed into his pillow, beating it with his fist. 

When he finished, he fell back on his pillow with a sigh. 

“John?” Paul murmured. 

“What?” 

“I wish I knew what to say to you.”

“Just say what they all say and get out. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry for your loss.’ ‘Oh, how brave you are.’ ‘Oh, did you lose your mother? I bet that sucks,’” he griped. He punched his pillow again. 

“You didn’t let me finish,” Paul said quietly. John waited for him to continue. Paul went on, “I wish I knew what to say to you, because I know there is nothing that I can say to make it better. You’re gonna feel like shit, and nothing I say or do will change that. But I want you to know that I am still here for whatever you need.”   
John looked up at him, hope in his eyes for the first time in days. Then, he patted the empty space next to him on the bed. Paul reluctantly sat down. 

“So, tell me, are you supposed to actually eat at a wake?”

“I didn’t, and no one would fault you if you didn’t.”

“Oh, okay. Well, is it okay if I don’t talk to anyone, like, for the rest of my life?”

Paul chuckled. “Just stay up here. I’ll tell everyone that you got a massive headache and needed to lie down.”

“You’re leaving?” John’s voice never sounded so small, so weak. It nearly broke Paul’s heart. 

He slid down lower on the bed and gave him a reassuring smile. 

“Johnny, trust me, I’m not going anywhere.” 

They laid in bed together, wrapped in each other’s arms, John’s head resting on Paul’s chest, for the rest of the night.


End file.
